One For The Starry Road
by Nitrobot
Summary: Wheeljack was never very good at goodbyes. [TFP, implied Cliffjumper/Arcee]


Wheeljack told himself the lump congealing in his vocaliser was from nothing more than the evening chill locking his circuits. It took several bursts of static to clear it, and even then leftover strings still lingered and fluttered uncomfortably in his throat.

"Arcee said you'd be here," he said to the air, not entirely focusing on the tiny memorial in front of him. How fitting; Cliffjumper's grave placed on the perch of a cliff, close enough for him to- what else?- jump off it. If Wheeljack tuned his audios he could almost hear the old slagger laughing from the Allspark.

Wheeljack had never been the type to wonder what came after a life of killing 'Cons, saving innocents, rinse and repeat for a few centuries until Cosmic Rust or something worse finally chewed your spark to pieces. Wrecker philosophy on its own preached that for all their jumper cable bravery, an early death was inevitable. More often than not, the clean-up that replaced backup was to mop up their own corpses as well as any fraggers they'd taken out in their last moments. Most Wreckers died too young and too cocky to feel any despair in that, but Wheeljack... well, he didn't spend the last hundred stellar cycles floating in space just scratching his aft. The years let in boredom and boredom forced him to think; about how many friends he'd have waiting for him in the Allspark, if Primus would even let him join them.

It all made for some lonely nightmares. No wonder Cliffjumper didn't sign up with him.

"Nice sunset." He nodded, to amber nothing again. "Well, you've been here a Pit longer than me, you know that already." The sun started to crest the top of the memorial, giving a flare of sparkle to the rocks as if Cliffjumper's spark actually was buried there. He'd heard the body had never been recovered though- the only thing he actually _had_ heard about Cliff's death. Whatever the details were, the subject ended up sending Arcee to her quarters for the rest of the day. It wouldn't have surprised him if they were sparkmates- Cliff always liked femmes who could match him.

Primus, how much had his friend changed since their spars on Cybertron? How could Wheeljack call him his friend when he never even knew he'd been bonded and killed?

He needed a cyberette. He made himself a seat out of the cliff face; sitting next to Cliff's rocks, propping his legs against the jagged stones below him, as he rummaged in the clutter of his subspace. He found his last one. His last remnant of Cybertron. The one thing keeping him online.

And it was burning away faster than he could choke it down.

Maybe it was the night ahead bleaching the ground beneath him and the fading horizon all around that made the faint glow between his digits seem so precious, or the knowledge that he was going to have it make it last that made the sighs of his air cycles seem worlds apart. What wouldn't he give to be on one of those worlds instead...

He let the stalk burn his digits before finally stabbing it out, smoke still whisping out around the rocks. "Neither of us like sappy farewells, Cliff. At least, you never did last time we met." Ash-scarred lips smirked. "Remember that? A few last drinks at Maccadam's, the bar brawl with Breakdown?" Hammer verses horns, a battle for the ages that still made Wheeljack laugh.

"Shame he had to go to the 'Cons," he said, letting a regretful sigh through his vents. "For all we know, he's the piece of slag who offed you."

All he knew was that it was it was a Decepticon on Earth. If he had time he would have tracked the fragger down and replaced their spark with a grenade. But the sun was almost gone, and the scattered sparks in the sky would be coming out. He wouldn't be able to speak knowing they were listening in far above him, nosy glitches.

"Whatever went on between you and Arcee... she misses ya'. Everyone does, but... from the looks'a things, it hit her like a damn asteroid." Pebbles showered from his ped as it kicked back against the cliff face, drawing his optics away from Cliff's shrine and his distant guilt.

"I won't be stickin' around," Wheeljack said with a shrug. "Places to see, femmes to frag, 'Cons to kill, the usual. Like you said when I first got the Jackhammer fired up; _'Jackie, you'd drift right into a meteor shower if you thought a bar was on the other side.'_ " He did a poor muffled imitation of Cliff's voice, resisting the urge to give himself horns with his digits. Hearing himself only made him sadder. When he finally looked to the shrine on his left, his optics were too blurry to see it clearly.

"I've got other... other Wreckers to track down as well," he muttered around the accursed lump forming again, almost punching his optics free of coolant. "You're not the first friend I've lost, and I'm too damn cynical to think you'll be the last."

Wheeljack wasn't sure if he had much else to say, when he heard a crunch of disturbed dirt and a ton-weight aft shifting its weight on peds.

"Didn't Magnus tell ya' to never sneak up on a Wrecker, Prime?" Wheeljack didn't turn his helm, letting his tone carry his accusation.

"I was not attempting to hide, Wheeljack." As always, Optimus' voice was indecipherable. Maybe a smarter mech could have gleaned some subtle sympathy from it.

Wheeljack began the laborious task of heaving himself back up onto his peds. "Bulkhead tell you I'd be here?"  
"He did suggest that." When he'd finally gathered himself, Wheeljack saw Optimus standing just outside where the outcropping began, out of immediate punching distance. Wheeljack wasn't the type to forgive eavesdropping, and his digits were twitching, aching for another cyberette.

Even so, he knew not even he would get away with knocking out Primus' own chosen savior- or whatever slag the Iacon propoganda spouted.

"It's probably best I don't know how much of that you just heard," he grunted in place of a scowl, leaning forward in an eagerness to leave before the light of day was fully gone. But something rooted him to the rock, giving him nothing to do but stand and cast a look back at the memorial.

"Me and Cliff were pretty close during the war. He never signed up to the Wreckers, but he was as much a brother to me as all of them." Whether or not Optimus had heard him talking to ghosts, an explanation at least spared him from having to talk too much more with the Prime. He didn't do well with smart types.

Optimus said nothing, studying the Wrecker with all the grace of a statue on a plinth, watching his digits still twitching against each other. He kept his optics low, not bothering to see whether the Prime was even listening.

"Which slagger offlined him?" Wheeljack asked, a snarl threatening to rip through his voice.  
"As of yet, we do not know," Optimus answered. "During a patrol, Cliffjumper encountered the Nemesis and was outnumbered by Vehicons. They took him onboard... and that is where he perished."

If there was a lie there, Wheeljack didn't have the spark to look for it. Fists squeezed his trembling digits together, a ped lashing out on a patch of dust just short of Cliff's rocks.

"Decepticons... would rather swarm a bot with drones than face them one-on-one. Primus damn _cowards_." Wheeljack spat the insult over the cliff, lest it fester in his vocaliser and infect it. His fists failed and reformed again, shoulders going up and down as they carried forth his heavy vents. The last rays of daylight framed him, like a picture of divine pissed-off justice. Optimus knew better than to go closer, staying still even when Wheeljack whirled around with servos spread out.

"What, no 'feel good, he's in a better place' lecture?" he asked, the mockery only barely covering his remorse.

Optimus shuttered his optics, clearing his vents. "I would assume you already know that, Wheeljack."

Though his scowl faltered ever so slightly, Wheeljack still shoved past Optimus on his way to the lonely safety of the plains. "Yeah, well... sure as Pit doesn't make me feel better."

Optimus only observed again for a few nanoklicks, watching the fury following behind the Wrecker. "Before you leave, Wheeljack..." he called out, turning to face him head on with a servo in his subspace. "If I am not mistaken, it is Wrecker tradition to drink to fallen soldiers."

Wheeljack debated over even wasting time acknowledging him, T-cog already fired up. He turned, slowly at first, and then fully when he saw the glowing cubes in Optimus' hands too bright to just be energon. "You got a high-grade stash that I couldn't sniff out?" He was getting tipsy just looking at them, a lopsided smile overtaking his faceplate.

"Bulkhead's, actually. When he saw I was leaving base, he offered them." Optimus took a seat on a boulder and popped his own cube open, holding out the other towards Wheeljack. The Wrecker approached warily, smile persistent, before gingerly taking the cube and dedicating himself to small sips at first. Sips quickly turned to gulps, the smooth liquid snuffing out the rage that took hold in his spark and soothing his wretched vocaliser. He was finished before Optimus was even halfway through his, but the Prime had come prepared and revealed another cube.

They drank into the night, and as they came out one by one the stars seemed to shine a little brighter down on them.

 **xx**

 _Cliffjumper seems like the type of mech who'd be in with the Wreckers, even if he's not officially part of them, so it makes sense to me that Wheeljack would pay his respects before leaving Earth. And I like imagining a brOTP between Optimus and Wheeljack in any case._


End file.
